Eye of the Storm
by asphaltfaerie
Summary: In the hurricane of the Thunder Plains, Auron and Lulu are the calm in the eye of the storm.


The rain came down in torrential sheets, and the lightning flashed chaotically; it was never-ending, forever raging. The ground was muddy in some spots and barren rock in others—barren and burned clean from where lightning had struck with enough force to singe the dirt away. The grotesque structures that were the lightning rod towers stretched into the distance, standing like giant, shadowy juggernauts, watching over their never-changing wasteland.  
  
His one good eye focused on the black, churning sky, and they were exact mirrors of each other. The other eye, scarred into disuse, moved behind the deformed eyelid, but saw nothing. This place did not bother Auron. If he had gotten his way, they would have still been moving, and probably would have been out of the Thunder Plains by then.  
  
However, the Al Bhed—Rikku—had whined and complained until they begrudgingly stopped at the travel agency for a rest. The rest of the group was asleep, although, truth be told, Auron could not tell whether it was day or night. The Thunder Plains never changed. It had been dusk when they had entered them, so after the few hours of travel they had completely, he was assuming that it was sometime in the early morning, approaching dawn.  
  
Auron was not afraid of lightning, or thunder, or the things that lurked in the shadows of the Thunder Plains. Truth be told, there was not much that frightened him. The capacity for fright had all but left his body, along with a great many other things that most other normal humans possessed within them.  
  
But you're not a normal human, now, are you, old chap? His brain calmly reminded him. He scowled in spite of himself and watched a far off lightning bolt strike one of the towers, causing it to glow for a split second and the Plains to light up as if it were day in the blink of an eye. His arm, cradled in the folds of his cloak, balled into a fist and unballed. I wish I could fear this place.  
  
In a few more hours, he would rouse the rest of the guardians and the summoner herself, Yuna, and force them back out on their journey. Auron felt something akin to pity for Yuna, who realized that she was nothing more than a pawn in the grand scheme of things. He honestly cared whether or not she wed; something about Seymour made the hair on the back of Auron's neck stand up, but he would just have to wait to see how things played out in the long run. As long as her pilgrimage was not delayed or interrupted, Yuna could marry a million men, for as much as he cared. So long as Yuna never lost sight of what her true purpose in life was, Auron cared not for what she did.  
  
He did, however, definitely feel pity for Tidus, who was actually in love with the summoner. He was quite sure that the young man from the past had no idea what the duty of a summoner entailed. He had also been able to see the abject depression in Tidus' expressive eyes ever since the subject of Yuna's marriage had come up.  
  
He will learn, Auron thought. Becoming attached to Yuna is a dead-end street.  
  
Lightning struck the ground not far from the agency, lighting up the whole area, and in the split second of supernova, Auron detected another presence. He was not alone. His hand flew to his sword; he whirled menacingly, body tensed and teeth gritted. Thunder growled low across the barren hills and lightning exploded again, illuminating the dramatic form of Lulu, the group's black mage. Auron relaxed instantly, and said nothing of his move to attack. She said nothing of it as well.  
  
"You should be asleep." His words were an accusation for invading his sphere of solitude. The tinkle of her hair pieces was mysteriously absent; she had removed them for sleep. That was why he had not heard her approach, having been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had let his guard drop.  
  
"Should you not as well?" she said, equally as accusing. "It is not easy to sleep in the middle of a twenty-four hour raging thunderstorm."  
  
Auron hid a ghost of a smirk in his cloak. "You sound like Rikku."  
  
Lulu said nothing in reply, but Auron felt her gaze heavy on his back. He had sensed her gaze more and more often, and at first he had thought it had perhaps been attraction (for Auron, scarred and aged as he was, was not an unattractive man), but now he felt more than just possibly that in her probing gazes. He was suspicious of her, as he reasoned that she was of him. They were both somewhat shadowy characters, and their suspicion of each other was only to be expected.  
  
He knew that Lulu knew that something was not quite right about him; he'd known that she was perceptive from the first moment he saw her. When she looked at him he could practically hear the gears in her head turning, working, figuring him out. It made Auron distinctly uncomfortable to have her silently scrutinizing him all the time.  
  
"I am not half as interesting as the lightning storm," he said, finally, after she had stared his back down for a good deal of minutes. He heard her move; barely a rustle of buckles and fabric, almost lost in the din of the rain.  
  
"I am not half as interested in the storm as I am in you," she returned, coolly. Then she said nothing more.  
  
Auron frowned. Lulu was just as guarded as he was, and perhaps just as dangerous. She was as good at playing the hiding game as he was, that was for sure. What are you looking for, woman? He asked her in his brain. He turned his head halfway to gaze at her heavily shadowed form near the door, the only thing halfway visible being her alabaster white skin. He turned his head back around to stare out at the blasted landscape.  
  
Auron felt strangely at home here.  
  
He did not jump when he felt the light touch of a hand on his back, muted through the thickness of the cloak, did not flinch away from the glare of the lightning when it struck a tower. Lulu was at his side, her hand upon his back, but he would not allow himself to look at her. She was dangerously close to figuring something out, coming to a conclusion on something, and he could feel that within him. Her hand slid up his back, firmly, and up the back of his neck, and came to rest in his short, salt and pepper hair.  
  
"I am not an animal in a petting zoo," he informed her, coldly, but her hand did not move. She sniffed.  
  
"You're right," she said, lowly. "But you are not what you are pretending to be, either."  
  
Those words went straight to Auron's gut, sending an unwilling shiver throughout his body. He turned his head to look down upon the mage, slowly. His good eye gazed into the one of hers that was not obscured by her jet hair, and walls crumbled.  
  
"And what, exactly, is that?" he asked her, although he did not want to hear her reply. A corner of her lips quirked up slightly, just barely visible in the gloom, and she leaned forward until those quirked lips were right next to his ear. The fur lining her bodice brushed against his chest.  
  
"Alive," she whispered, the single word almost lost in the pounding of the water upon the ground, and the distant rumbles of thunder that gave the Plains their name. Auron's heart skipped a beat.  
  
"I felt it the first time I looked at you," she continued, in the same quiet whisper. "I felt you clinging to something desperately, I felt a great void within you—" Lulu paused. "I felt your death," she finished.  
  
Auron could not bring himself to speak. His dead heart resumed beating at a semi-normal pace, and he let his eyes drift closed. She knows, his mind hissed frantically. How could she possibly know?  
  
"How?" he growled finally, somewhat at a loss for words. She leaned back and withdrew her hand from the back of his head, folding them across her chest, seemingly a habit of hers. Her lips quirked up once more.  
  
"I have been dead for quite some time now," she replied, simply.  
  
The meaning was lost on Auron for a moment until he remembered the talk of Wakka's long-dead brother, Chappu, whom had supposedly been Lulu's—he closed his eye and turned his head away from Lulu, towards the ground. Emotionally dead.  
  
"I can offer you no advice except that life…truly is precious. Never envy the dead." He realized how ridiculous he sounded, and how little of an impact his words would have upon the dark woman, who, for all extensive purposes, was almost as dead as Auron—except that she still possessed a soul. He opened his eye and looked back to her, to find her face just as stoic and unemotional as before.  
  
They stood for a few moments, staring at each other impassively as the storm raged on around them, two creatures—one dead and one who wished to be dead—and Auron became aware of a strange kind of comfort radiating from Lulu, something that could almost make him feel like he was alive, something soft and warm that he felt like he could immerse himself in like water.  
  
His arms reached out for her in the darkness, and pulled her to him with no resistance on her part. It was then, cradling her against him, that Auron felt the most alive that he had felt in all the ten years he had wandered the land of the living a soulless creature. She made him feel human in that moment. There, in the wild of the storm, their union was the eye of the hurricane, the calm space in a world of chaos.  
  
Auron kissed her. It was a frantic, desperate action, they were both clinging to something bigger than each other, trying to find something in one another that would justify themselves. The passion contained in the union seemed dwarfed by some larger, greater thing that loomed over them like the storm loomed over the plains. His arms wrapped around her willow- thin waist almost brutally, her hands clutched at the front of his cloak tightly enough to nearly tear the thick crimson fabric. Together, they searched.  
  
When they broke apart, breathless, Lulu went to speak, but faltered. Auron gently but firmly grasped her chin and laid his rough thumb over her lips, preventing any words she might have gathered the wits to speak.  
  
"I am dead, and so is my soul," he said, lowly, merely a rumble, "but I felt your soul. It lives, and it is beautiful."  
  
There were no more words spoken between the two, but they remained wrapped in each others' arms for hours, watching the storm ravage the Plains, finding solace in the mystery they had found in each other. 


End file.
